


Accept It From Someone

by raven_aorla



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: 4x04 Compatible, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Fluff, Domesticity, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Halloween, Families of Choice, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Hope, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Medical Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mental Health Issues, Mentor & Protégé, Recovery, Weird Fluff, minor Jim dragging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-19 15:55:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12413292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_aorla/pseuds/raven_aorla
Summary: Ed’s head was fuzzy from the ice and whirling from the implications of his last conversation with Oswald, the mercy that was actually a curse. He was hungry and aimless. Then suddenly this skinny, grungy thing with a black baseball cap pulled low over his face darted from behind a corner of the alley, shoved him against a wall, and put a hand over his mouth.“Don't scream. You understood my father’s work. I need help improving the toxin. Um. Please?”





	Accept It From Someone

**Author's Note:**

> If you are familiar with my Gotham fics, it seems I will continually try to help and comfort Gotham's Jonathan Crane in many different timelines, universes, and methods.

Ed’s head was fuzzy from the ice and whirling from the implications of his last conversation with Oswald, the mercy that was actually a curse. He was hungry and aimless. Then suddenly this skinny, grungy thing with a black baseball cap pulled low over his face darted from behind a corner of the alley, shoved him against a wall, and put a hand over his mouth. “Don't scream. You understood my father’s work. I need help improving the toxin. Um. Please?”

Ed tried to reach for the knife in his pocket but got his wrist grabbed instead. “Mmh?!”

The wraith boy, dark hair falling over bloodshot eyes continued, “You’re Edward Nygma. I figured out how to make it without new glands. I figured out how to make the toxin in aerosol form, not only intravenous. But apparently it’s _water soluble_ and I need help fixing that, and I know you know chemistry and you read my father’s paper. I need you.”

“I don’t know much about current events,” Ed protested when the hand was removed from his mouth. He’d been trying to catch up, but simply trying to survive while still not fully recovered was hard enough as it was.

“Neither do I, but I don’t use that as an excuse.” That was the huffiest oddball declaration Ed had heard in awhile, and that said a lot. “You don’t remember older events? Old cases? In forensics? Three years plus a...um...a few months ago?”

“Vaguely?”

He slumped slightly, and only then did Ed see how young he was. Couldn’t be more than twenty or so, maybe his late teens. “You would have known me as Jonathan Crane. I’m not anymore.”

Dredged up from the depths, Ed suddenly remembered being scolded for doing a better job than the medical examiner of the time. Disrespected and underappreciated as always. _But I found something._ “Gerald Crane’s son?”

“Yes. Call me Scarecrow now. I’ll call you Riddler if you want.”

“No. I’m not the Riddler anymore. Or…not again yet. You can call me Nygma.” It would do.

“I’ve got a place to stay.”

“So have I. We shouldn’t stand here for long. I may have people after me.” Ed glanced up at the rooftops for, say, Tabitha Galavan.

“My place is probably harder to find than yours,” Scarecrow said. “If you help me, I’ll help you.”

“What’s your endgame here?”

“Hurt people who’ve hurt me, whether directly or by killing my father. Maybe destroy Arkham while I’m at it, destroy it or reshape it, make it what it should be. Never...never get hurt again by anybody.” He bit his lip. “I might work on changing the world and teaching everyone in Gotham to embrace their fear later, but the first three are a good start.”

It wasn’t like Ed was doing so well on his own, and destroying Arkham had a certain appeal on a simply hedonistic level. “Are you angry at me?”

Scarecrow emphatically shook his head. “You didn’t kill him. You appreciated him. Nobody else did. It was very clear from everyone I tortured to find out who helped on the case. I found the people who are supposed to check up on who the GCPD puts away. And left me to rot instead. I didn’t torture them very hard, nothing I haven’t had myself. _Bzzt._ Odd, what different people can take. I gave them a gift before I left, for cooperating. They’re better now. ‘Personal growth is important’, like the poster in the mess hall says.”

“I remember,” Ed remarked. “Lots of crass jokes on alternate interpretations of ‘personal growth’, I remember those too.”

It wasn’t a smile, but Scarecrow let go of his wrist and looked less feral for a moment. “I knew it. _You’ll_ understand. Please. Come with me.”

****

Ed’s mirror self was leaning on the hood of Scarecrow’s impromptu vehicle. _Long time no see, pal, but this is important: if this one loves you, too, be sure to go with the strangling, not the shooting. Seems to work better._

****

Scarecrow was not very good at driving a car. “I only ever got a learner’s permit and I’m out of practice,” he muttered when Ed looked askance at him.

After that, Ed was the one who did the driving. That first time he didn’t know the way. Fortunately they were taking back roads out to the very margins of the city. It was an dilapidated barn that had a large set of chemistry equipment all set up.

“Old meth lab,” Scarecrow explained. “Original guys aren’t coming back, I made sure. I cleaned out the dangerous stuff. They’d buried lots of cash in the floorboards. I’ll give you a share for personal supplies as well as helping me restock on ingredients. There’s some of their product, too, but I don’t know how to fence it. There’s electricity from a generator out back. Third and second horse stall have food and a wardrobe you can share. Barrel full of rainwater under the leak in the roof. You can boil the water on the Bunsen burner over here, or buy bottled but that’s expensive. Separate outhouse for the farm hands or something I guess. Compost toilet so it’s okay that we don’t have running water. There’s a stream I wash in sometimes fifteen minutes’ walk away. Two mattresses up in the loft. Eat, fine, but then it’s your job to get more. Turn the light off when you’re done.”

“I can probably figure out how to fence the meth. But why is there an enormous scarecrow mural done in charcoal on the far wall?”

Scarecrow made a supremely adolescent disdainful face at him, and went up the ladder without another word. After Ed had a sandwich and removed his jacket, tie, and collared shirt, he went up there as well. Scarecrow hadn't wanted to go to Ed's hideout to let Ed grab things, said he was wary of spending too much time in the heart of the city, and there'd been nothing really worth pressing the point over. The kid was asleep, curled in a tight ball on his sagging mattress, two blankets shrink-wrapped around him and his face mostly pressed into his pillow. His hair covered almost all the rest, with a bunch also fanning across the gray pillowcase. There was one blanket remaining for Ed’s use. They would have to figure out what to do when it got colder and the little space heater Ed had seen wouldn’t be enough.

****

_In the ice, Ed had dreamed, but out of the ice he was dreaming more than he ever had. Ed dreamed of a fireplace and the taste of ginger tea, of bruises around his throat, of the difference between “for” and “to”. He saw how that single hinge makes or breaks “anything” and “you.”_

****

Scarecrow had squirreled away some decent chemistry, biochemistry, and pharmacological textbooks to consult from, and Ed skimmed certain sections to brush up on his knowledge as well. Much of this hadn’t been his specialty, after all, though something he’d always had a knack for and found interesting. He currently couldn’t read as fast as he was used to. Scarecrow did a lot of reading as well. This morning he was fully dressed with the addition of a ratty old blue and white checked robe. Ed had managed to find a change of clothes in his size except for the pants, so he was wearing those again. He needed to sort that out soon, clearly.

Scarecrow also detailed to Ed how he’d developed the toxin - other than under extreme duress - and its strengths and weaknesses.

“Are you not worried about what I’ll do once I know your formula?” Ed couldn’t help but ask.

Scarecrow’s enthusiasm for eating his fresh apple while perched on a rung of the ladder was simultaneously impressive and depressing. “From what I hear, the Riddler is very attached to his shtick. Besides, there’s an ingredient you can’t replicate on your own.”

It turned out that there was an acceptable substitute for the harvested hormones, and you only needed a very few parts per million. A massive overdose of them had once been put in a single place, after all, and even if that was gone now, some changes are permanent.

The new fear toxin had Scarecrow’s blood in it. Not much. A few cc’s per dozen or more doses. However, the toxin would at most give you a mother of all headaches without it.

“You know the part that made the least sense to me?” Ed asked. “Not the water soluble thing. Water is a strange and versatile substance. No, it was ol’ Jimbo shaking it off so easy. He’s pretty stoic, I’ll grant you, but I’m not buying this Power of Courage and Love thing. Especially given how he and Dr. Thompkins turned out in real life.”

“It sounded more like he felt regret or anxiety or something,” Scarecrow agreed, curling in on himself. He was still eating the apple, more slowly now and with smaller bites as if to make it last longer.

“James Gordon has AB- type blood. It is the rarest of blood types. Less than one percent of Caucasians and even less in other ethnic groups. Universal receiver. They can take transfusions from all other blood types.” And take. And take. And _take_.

It was a welcome change that Scarecrow didn’t seem to care how Ed knew that. Apparently Ed’s idea of learning more about coworkers through examining their health records was considered “stalkery” by most people. “So he might have a natural reduced effect.”

“That’s another thing we could look into combating, though I agree the water soluble aspect is a bigger problem.” Ed rubbed his hands together, happy to have something to do other than not die. “What’s your type?”

Scarecrow unfolded to his feet. “O-. Everybody can take from me.”

“And you can only accept it from someone like you,” Ed added. He used to donate blood often, back when he cared about being useful to the general public.

The kid was quick on the uptake. His lip twitched and he was less grim for awhile.

****

_Ed dreamed of the docks and righteous fury, when righteousness still meant something._

****

Instead of going into the city for supplies, Scarecrow went farther out, out to the boonies to visit little mom and pop shops or farmer’s markets. Places where people paid less attention to Gotham city news and if they did, would only recognize the mask, not a fairly generic face. Trusting sorts of places unlikely to have security cameras. Sometimes he stopped by a small town rec center to use the hot showers. Or a dropped by a laundromat or bookstore. More self-indulgently, sometimes he got ice cream.

“I spent a lot of time thinking about how I’d manage if I ever escaped, and what I’d do,” Scarecrow said after one of the ice cream visits, bringing Ed an only slightly melted scoop of Mint Chocolate Chip (for green) and Rocky Road (for needless complexity).

Ed was giving Scarecrow additional driving lessons, but he found himself getting anxious when separated from Scarecrow for too long, like it would be his fault if something happened to the kid and that this would be bad. That meant he came along. He was more recognizable, so generally stayed in the car reading more textbooks or scheming. He was glad for this mental exercise and it seemed to be helping his recovery.

When they weren’t dealing with practicalities - and Scarecrow wasn’t going on long walks in the countryside simply because he could - they worked. Scarecrow became the most normal-acting, to the point of light-hearted, when he slipped into the role of a lab assistant. Ed had never had one before. It made things easier as he slowly returned to his baseline cognitive function. Scarecrow was patient. Eventually they started talking about trivia as well as science: strange facts, jokes (not riddles, not yet), movies and books and video games at least four years old. Safe things, but talking nonetheless. Later still, they started talking about what Scarecrow had missed, and about what both had no one else to tell.

Sometimes Scarecrow would lie in a fetal position in a corner, almost catatonic. Once he did this for two and a half hours. Sometimes he couldn’t eat. He also drew a lot of his namesake on the floors and walls, though he agreed that after two days Ed was allowed to scrub off a given piece of art. Sometimes Ed heard Scarecrow cry at night and wasn’t sure what to say or do, so let it be. He did gently tell him to stop chewing on his fingernails - and fingers - during the day, though, and regularly counted everything sharp to make sure it was all accounted for.

There were fun times, too. Scarecrow had to do a few tests in the city that involved both the gas and a bucket of water. And running away to where his science buddy had parked the getaway car. It took a few tries before they got it, but even the ones that frustrated them were a rush.

****

_Ed dreamed of less than a year in Arkham as an adult, and of more than three as practically a child._

****

One day Ed had cabin fever, so he joined Scarecrow on one of his walks.

“We should move soon,” he ventured. “The extra blankets you got aren’t going to cut it.”

“Mm. I used to love Halloween. We should try the gas on a group of people. On Halloween, there are groups of people of about the same age and level of health all over, say, the Gotham U. campus.”

“Are you suggesting we inflict mortal terror on a frat party? And record the results? And subsequently perhaps make a big splash, make your real debut after your prologue, make my comeback?”

“I wasn’t, Nygma, but now I am. Do you think your new outfit’s ready?” Scarecrow turned his head to look at him thoughtfully. He’d grown his hair out even more and started tying it back with a handmade version of those paracord bracelets he could easily convert into rope. You could do all sorts of things with a bit of rope.

“I would say so.” A slow grin bloomed on Ed’s face. “They say living well is the best of me, but there are other options to cause greater glee.”

“Revenge?”

Ed gave him a thumbs-up. “This city doesn’t appreciate us, Scarecrow. We should _make_ it.”

Scarecrow stopped walking. Ed stopped too, hoping he was okay. “I think you can call me Jonathan. Just you, just when you’re talking to me.”

It was hard to tell who initiated the hug.

****

_Ed dreamed of a father you hate because he hurt you for reasons you disagree with. He dreamed of a father you love because he hurt you for reasons you do._

****

The storm was particularly loud. They’d gotten used to quiet out here.

“Let me know if the conversation starts pissing you off, and I’ll stop,” Scarecrow said in the nearby darkness.

“What do you want to talk about?”

“I was just thinking, from what you’ve said when we kind of open up to each other more like we’ve been doing lately, that you’re really not great about how you manage romantic love, but…”

“But?”

“He’s still alive, you know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“At least he’s still alive. It’s not game over if they’re still alive.”

“Go to sleep, Jonathan.”

“There’s got to be a save point you can go back to, to use a video game analogy. I mean he's had all these chances to kill you, but hasn't. First he just wanted like a 'perfect' version to keep around. Now he wants a flawed version he doesn't want to look at but wants alive out there somewhere, which is less messed up. Then when it comes to how you feel about what you've done and what you wish you'd...”

“This conversation has started pissing me off.”

“Okay. Goodnight.”

A long pause later and Scarecrow cleared his throat.

“What?” Ed tried not to sound too exasperated. It meant a lot that Scarecrow was talking about feelings other than fear.

“You leave me alone when you hear me cry at night, which is what I want unless I say something. Is that what you want?”

“Go to sleep, Jonathan.” The nearby darkness was now a sulky darkness, so Ed eventually sighed and responded, “Yes, unless I say something.”

“Cool.”

Much listening to tossing and turning later, Ed asked, "Will you go to sleep if I read you something?" Scarecrow had mentioned that being a thing when he was little.

Scarecrow flicked on a lantern, expression blank like it got sometimes, especially when he was tired. "Poetry."

****

_Ed dreamed of a father you become because you are needed as one, and because you need it, too._

****

The hugging became more frequent. Once when Scarecrow was very sleepy and a rather melancholy, Ed accidentally ruffled his hair. He didn’t get called out on it. They also developed a secret handshake and were sure to do it when they got fully suited up for Halloween night.

They’d almost reached the campus when they ran into Tabitha Galavan and Selina Kyle. Everyone froze.

“I thought you two were on the outs,” Ed said. The big errand he’d become responsible for lately was dropping by the rebuilt and relocated Merc underworld superstore to pick up stuff from the Mad Scientist section, and you could get some underworld gossip out of the employees for moderate tips. Merc was a heavily enforced neutral zone, but as long as you were a known criminal they didn’t mind sharing what was on the grapevine.

Tabitha scowled at him. “Some of us know how not to permanently alienate everyone who cares about us.”

“We’ve got a busy night ahead,” Scarecrow said in his distorted masked voice. Ed had a gas mask handy too, in his specially altered question-mark messenger bag. “Let’s all go our own way. No harm, no foul.”

Selina just sounded amused. “Ex Forensics Guy’s got a sidekick, huh? I can dig it. It always sounded to me like Scarecrow just needed an adult you didn’t need to call CPS on.”

“We’re equals,” Scarecrow corrected. No anger. If he was not planning on gassing someone and didn’t feel threatened by them, he was very mild.

“I can’t believe this,” Tabitha groaned.

Scarecrow slowly tilted his head. “Would you see Azrael, Tabitha? Or do you prefer not to find out?”

After another frozen moment, Tabitha turned on her heel and stalked away. Selina mouthed a _wow_ in Scarecrow’s direction before following, likely earning herself leniency in the future. Scarecrow was very easy to please when it came to the slightest praise.

Ed quoted Kipling as they headed for a specific party that had been traditional back in Ed’s day. In fact Ed had gone one year, only to have his glasses stolen as part of crude rituals, and learned that was the sole reason he’d been invited. _“Very softly down the glade runs a waiting, watching shade / And the whisper spreads and widens far and near / And the sweat is on thy brow, for he passes even now…”_

Scarecrow finished the line with dark delight. _“He is Fear, O Little Hunter, he is Fear!_

****

_Ed dreamed of blood in dark water. Ed dreamed of a mansion full of ghosts he’d made himself. Ed dreamed of a world of save points, of not-yet game-overs, of where the most thoroughly screwed-over of all adolescents are right._

_Ed dreamed more certainly of screams in dark fields._

_Ed dreamed of thawing ice and a winter hideout safe for birds._

**Author's Note:**

> I have a new novel out!  
> [ Available in ebook and print form on Amazon](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07DSLT3D2/ref=mp_s_a_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1529183871&sr=8-2&pi=AC_SX236_SY340_FMwebp_QL65&keywords=Donaya+Haymond&dpPl=1&dpID=51cFXjiasBL&ref=plSrch), and in [print from the Barnes & Noble site.](https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/seasons-turning-donaya-haymond/1129067787?ean=9780999202654)


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